Me and the Devil

43.

The bathroom light hums faintly, too bright, too sharp against the shadows looming over the day. I grip the porcelain sink with both hands, leaning over it as if bracing for a wave I can’t see coming. The water runs hot, scalding, but no matter how hard I scrub, the red smears linger. It’s already seeped into the lines of my skin, into the space behind my ribs. My reflection stares back at me, hollow-eyed, damp hair clinging to my cheeks.

For a moment, I see something else in the mirror. A flash of JJ’s grin, wild and reckless under the moonlight. Kiara’s laugh echoing on the beach. John B’s voice calling me “family” like it was the easiest truth in the world. Then it shifts. Rafe’s trembling hands clutching mine, his voice cracking as he begged Ward to see him, to choose him. The images collide, overlapping until it’s just me in the mirror again.

I shut off the water and listen. The house is alive again, voices echoing faintly through the hall. My stomach twists when I recognize Sarah’s voice, sharp with desperation.

“What’s going to happen to Rafe?”

I freeze outside Sarah’s door, pressed to the wall. Ward’s reply is low and steady. “You grow up thinking there’s good and there’s evil, and that’s how it should be, because that’s helpful when you’re young. But there reaches a point when you realize that the world isn't organized along some divine idea of right and wrong. It's something else. It's family.” Ward pauses and I can feel the tension in the room all the way out here. “Him or us."

My breath catches. Him or us. I glance down at my hands, still raw from scrubbing, and realize I’ve already chosen which side of that line I’m standing on. That I am now a part of  “us.”

The door swings open. ward steps out, his presence filling the hall. I stay rooted, unable to peel myself away. His gaze takes over me, hard, unreadable, before he turns back and shuts the door. the lock clicks into place, but not before Sarah's eyes find mine. Wet, pleading, breaking.

And then Ward is gone, his footsteps receding, leaving me with the echo of the lock and the weight of Sarah's stare, when her voice cuts through the silence.

“Y/n,” Sarah’s voice comes soft through the crack of the door, fragile and desperate. “I know you’re out there.”

I should walk away. I should go back to Rafe. But something in her tone anchors me.

“You don’t have to do this,” she whispers, her words tumbling fast, like she’s afraid Ward will hear. “I see the way you look at him. I know you care about him. But this..this isn’t love. This is going to destroy you. You need to go back to the Pogues. Help John B. Clear his name.”

Her plea burns. I press my hand against the door. “You don’t understand. You didn’t see him after. You didn’t hear him..”

“I didn’t need to,” she snaps, her voice rising, then softening again. “I saw enough. I saw my brother shoot an innocent woman. And now John B’s going to pay for it. Don’t you see what’s happening? Rafe’s dragging you down with him. You think you’re protecting him, but you’re just letting him destroy you. Don’t you care at all?”

My throat tightens. “Of course I do. But—”

“But what?” Her voice rises, sharp and cutting. “But you’re so in love with Rafe you’re willing to let John B rot in a cell? Maybe even die? To watch JJ, Kiara, and Pope lose him? That’s not love, y/n. That’s madness.”

Anger flares hot in my chest. “No. You don’t know what you’re talking about. Rafe…he loves me in a way no one else ever has. And I love him.” The words spill out before I can stop them, and suddenly they’re hanging heavy in the air.

There’s a pause, then Sarah exhales, bitter and sharp. “And what about JJ? Don’t stand out there and tell me Rafe loves you like no one else ever has. Because JJ loved you. You know it, I know it, everyone did. And loving someone when you’re broken the way JJ is? Do you know how hard that is? JJ had nothing. No one. But he gave what little he had to you. That was real, y/n. That was love.”

Her words lance through me, dredging up memories I’ve tried to bury. JJ’s grin, crooked and sunburnt. His lips against mine, reckless and warm, lying next to me on the dock, whispering nonsense just to make me laugh. The late nights on the Cut where he let me in, where his defenses slipped, and I saw the boy under the bravado, bruised but still giving.

I swallow hard. “I haven’t forgotten. But that was then. And this… this is now. Rafe is broken too, Sarah. Maybe in a worse way. And he needs me. He’s drowning, and I’m the only one who even tries to see him. He’s more than what he’s done. And I won’t leave him.”

On the other side of the door, Sarah goes quiet, her breath hitching. “Needing you isn’t love,” she says fiercely. “It’s desperation. And desperation burns everything it touches. You think you’re saving him, but he’ll drag you down with him. And when you’re gone, when there’s nothing left of you, you’ll wish you’d walked away.”

My hand trembles against the door. For a moment, I almost break. Almost. But then I think of Rafe’s tear-streaked face, his face when I told him that I was trying to save him. That fragile part of him that only I’ve seen.

The silence after is worse than any scream.

I turn, Sarah’s pleas trailing me as the hall stretches out before me, dim and golden in the glow of the lamps. At the far end, Rafe’s shadow spills across the carpet, his figure framed in the light from his room. His shoulders are slumped, head bowed as though the weight of the world is crushing him.

But when he looks up and sees me, something shifts. His eyes glisten, raw and red-rimmed, but a faint, watery smile tugs at his mouth. His shoulders sag, not from defeat this time, but from release, as if some part of him has finally unclenched.

My chest aches, and before I even realize I’m moving, my feet carry me to him. I stop just close enough for our hands to find each other, his grip trembling at first, then steadying when I squeeze.

That’s all it takes. No words, no promises. Just the weight of our choice hanging in the air between us. I am his stronghold, and he is mine.